Stranger
by Charlie Winchester
Summary: She doesn't know who he is. Dark ColbyMegan. Complete.
1. Chapter 1

**Stranger**

"You came."

He could hear the beginnings of a cold in her voice; the deep, husky undertones and the nasal twang that slipped out on certain vowels. He knew by the next sunrise, she'd be coughing and carrying balled up Kleenex around, miserable for the entire day. The next day, it would be worse; her voice would get hoarse and she'd be running a fever. The day after that, or maybe two days, she'd stay home altogether, nauseous on top of everything else. She didn't get sick often. He knew her that well.

His lips twisted into a wry smile. Ironic.

"Well, you know…" was drawled, accompanied by a lazy shrug as he sat on the stool beside her near the bar. She was nursing a beer, he noted, not her usual choice of beverage. Under normal circumstances she preferred something softer, more fruity. _Strawberry cocktails_ sprang to mind, and he almost chuckled. Yeah, he knew her.

"Don't patronize me, Granger," she snapped.

The silent question bouncing in his eyes told her all she needed to know. "No, not Colby. You know why? Because I don't even know-" she paused, fire in her eyes, "who. The. Hell. You. Are. Not anymore."

He sat defiantly, meeting her icy gaze with his steel one.

"What did they offer you, huh? That's what I want to know. Money? What could possibly have been better than what you had right here?" She tipped the open end of her bottle in a circle, gesturing around them. "What was so _great_ that you could throw your life away for a f—" she cut herself off angrily. "Was the grass that much greener in _China_?" She nearly spat the word out at him.

His tone was laced with sarcasm when he replied, "oh, yeah, it was all about the grass, Megan. That was all I ever wanted."

"God_damnit_, Colby!" She slammed her hand down on the marble tabletop, drawing more than a few glances. She ignored them. "What the hell was this, anyway? This job? An act? Some sick, perverted _game_ you were playing with us? We _trusted_ you!" Fury, hurt, and regret flashed like a slideshow in her blue eyes that he distinguished so well. She wasn't just angry with him, she was angry at herself.

Something deep down in his gut told him to reach over, take her hand, apologize. Tell her it wasn't what it seemed.

But it was too late for that now. He shoved the thought aside.

He cleared his throat, sighed. He really didn't… "It wasn't- not all of it-"

"… what went on with-" He struggled desperately to force the words out, "Megan, you and me… it- it wasn't an act. Wasn't a game. What I felt for you was real." Slowly, he raised his eyes to her face. Still expressionless.

"Bullshit, Granger." She stated simply. "A whole, big, load of _bullshit_ is what just came out of your mouth. Save it for someone who believes you. Or, for that matter, even _cares_." Cursing under her breath, she drained her beer and stood up. "I can't believe I ever… this is waste of time."

"Clearly," he sneered.

"Screw you." Then she took two steps forward, heading for the door. Stopped. Turned, eyes shooting flaming arrows at him. He saw her hand move to her neck, grasping. She yanked hard on a chain and threw something at his chest. "You can have this back. And Colby," her voice was cold, "go to hell."

In that split second, he found himself flying backwards into the past…

"_You look like you need a towel," Colby laughed, holding out his hand when her head broke the surface of the water._

"_Or two, or three, and a change of clothes," Megan finished, letting him help her onto the dock. "Thanks." Automatically, her hands flew to her neck. "Colby, it's gone." She started to panic. "He pulled on it as he tackled me… If I can't find it…"_

_It didn't take a genius to know that necklace meant the world to her._

"_I'll find it," he promised, but he knew the chances of finding it in the lake were slim. But he'd look. For her._

_The next day, a jewellery box showed up on her desk. A small frown furrowed her brow. Had he found it. Why would he have put it in a brand-new box? She glanced up as someone behind her cleared their throat. "I'm sorry, Megan. I couldn't find it for you." Megan turned. It didn't matter if he hadn't said anything, the apology was written all over his face. She hugged him._

"_You're the best, you know that?" she spoke into his ear. "You really are."_

_He laughed. "You haven't even seen what's in the box yet."_

_Her eyes were watery as she looked at him. "I don't need to."_

He would have been shocked to find that she, too, had pulled away for a trip down the memory lane…

"_Owww…" Megan grumbled, grasping her wrist in her left hand. "That dude could hit pretty hard for a nerd. And I landed harder."_

"_Well, we got him, thanks to your kickass karate skills," Colby teased her. _

"_It's not-"_

"_Yeah yeah, I know. It's not karate," he said, laughing. "So you've said." _

"_Only cause you keep saying it, too. __**Wrong**__." She smacked his shoulder with the heel of her injured hand with a wince._

"_Alright, alright, lemme see it," he ordered._

_Obediently she held out her arm, watching as he cradled it gently in his large hands. A warm feeling promptly rushed through her body, and she pulled her hand back confused, ignoring the pain that resulted in her actions._

"_Did I hurt you?" he demanded immediately._

"_No."_

_He stared at her, confused. "Then wha-"_

"_Never mind." _

"_Uh, okay…"_

_Megan fidgeted with the necklace around her neck. "'S just… weird… is all."_

"_Ahh, Meg, come on." Colby inched closer, mindful of the people milling around and the fact that they were still in plain view because of the glass walls that surrounded the little FBI kitchenette. "Give a guy a break. What's goin' on?"_

"_Nothing." When one eyebrow arched up, she amended her statement. "Well…" _

"_Me-gan," he drew out her name, sounding it out into four syllables instead of two, "talk to me."_

"_No, that's okay."_

"_**Megan**__."_

"_**No**__."_

_Frustrated, he planted himself a foot in front of her and crossed his arms. "Why not?" His voice was dangerously low and rumbling in his chest as he gazed down at her. She fought the urge to shiver. He ducked his head._

_Megan licked her lips with a nervous breath. Her spine was tingling. She could feel her shoulder blades pressing against the cupboards behind her. She didn't want to do this now, not now, maybe not ever, and dammit, he was __**so**__ not flashing those eyes at her and grinning like a Cheshire freaking cat. __**Damn you, Colby Granger**_

_He'd always had that aura about him, that All-American-Hero type personality, but every once in a while, when he really, really wanted something, he'd get all Bad-Boy-Playing-With-Fire on her and her heart would kick into triple-time. Good-guy Colby was fun to banter with, but Bad-Guy Granger…_

_Oh, dammit, he was closer. Again. _

_And poor little her was absolutely in every way possible unable to move, crud._

_She could tell herself anything she wanted, but getting her brain to interpret the messages was another thing altogether._

_At this point, his lips were close enough to hers that she could feel his warm, cinnamon-smelling breath on her cheeks, her nose, whistling past her ears. Then, __**finally**__, tenderly, wonderfully, his mouth covered her own and-_

"_Colby? Don needs us to follow up on a lead on that security guard-" obviously not noticing what he'd interrupted. The pressure on her lips disappeared completely as Colby twisted his head to look over one shoulder. "Sure, David, just gimme a sec," he said, causal as could be. Dear Lord in heaven, she must be on drugs, cause there was sure as hell nothing on god's green Earth that could possibly feel this good naturally. _

"_I'll get it out of you, Megan Reeves," he whispered into her ear, and then he was walking out the door._

When she blinked to clear the images form her mind, he was standing in front of her. God, had it only been a week ago that she had fallen head over freaking heels for this guy? And now she didn't even know if something as simple as his _name _was even real.

Wow, she was stupider than she thought.

"I actually can't believe…" she stopped. Shook her head in disbelief. Felt sick to her stomach.

His eyes were sad, now, so sad. For a moment, she felt that familiar zinging electric shock/adrenaline rush that'd zipped through her body every time he'd looked at her like _that_. But that wasn't someone she knew. The man two feet away? A stranger. A stranger whose daring betrayal cut straight to her very core.

Suddenly all she wanted to do was cry.

Instinctively he reached forward. Just as his fingertips touched her cheekbone, she jerked away. "Don't. Don't touch me." Her blue eyes filled with tears, spilling over, unrelenting.

"I don't _know_ you, Colby."

**TBC... if you want**


	2. Chapter 2

**So I'm FINALLY posting this. Hope you enjoy part two. I'd really enjoy the feedback. Oh, and just so you know, this is the end. There is no part 3 lol.**

**Stranger- Part 2, Shadow**

Some idiot had been tailing her for the better part of an hour, and it was really starting to piss her off.

Ugh, she was _so _not in the mood for this today.

A thought flitted across the back of her mind, but she shoved it aside. He wouldn't… and besides, wouldn't he be in jail? Anyway, it didn't matter. Since she had walked out on him three days ago, she hadn't seen him at all, she had entirely zero interest in seeing the jerk. If she never saw him again, it would be too soon.

Minutes passed, and the feeling diminished slightly.

Megan stopped by a store window and paused, eyeing a pair of black boots. Bad idea. Almost instantly a figure that had melted back into the crowd stepped into the light. She felt one hand- warm and huge- on the small of her back, another fell possessively on her forearm, and an intimidating presence at her side. "Let's walk," Colby growled in her ear, brushing it ever so lightly with his lips as they formed the words.

_That _made her abso-freaking-lutely _shudder._

So, she reluctantly let him propel her along, all the while trying not to be aware of the fact that his breath kept grazing the side of her neck, sending tingles down her spine.

Thud.

In what she was sure had to have been forever (and quite possibly longer), they had reached her apartment; she was smiling and saying hello to her neighbours like nothing was out of order, then she was hitting the stairs at a dead run when they rounded an empty corridor.

Pulse racing, she fumbled with her key and- thank god- slid it neatly into the lock without a lot of trouble. Hearing footsteps behind her, she threw open her door and expelled the breath she didn't realize she'd been holding. Or, rather, she half-did, because at that point Colby had recovered from his initial shock, caught up to her, squeezed through the door she'd leaned against, and was pinning her up against it- when the hell had it _closed?_- and was currently launching a fierce and (grudgingly) welcome attack on her mouth.

Contrary to his first attempt at kissing her- soft, gentle, slow- she could feel that she was on the receiving end of an inexplicable display of anger, transmitted in the only way he knew she would understand.

Passion… fuelled by rage.

A warm feeling pooled in her abdomen at the touch of his fingers threading through her hair to the back of her head, urging her body closer to his. Ahhh, god, she was truly dying… and this was _such_ a bad idea… dammit, why did her body have to insist on reacting this way? She groaned. Whether it came out as a good groan or a bad one, she had no clue, but it was really starting to _not _matter one bit…

Her hands were trapped against his chest.

Instead of squirming, which wouldn't help her at all considering Colby's tremendous size, she tentatively spread her hands, feeling the muscles constrict and move beneath her fingertips and the thin blue t-shirt he'd donned that morning.

Finally he yanked his head back, breathing hard and not bothering to try and hide it. His eyes, which looked blue because of the shirt, were slightly glazed over. A slow smirk tugged at his lips as he watched her. Lips pursed, creating the appearance of annoyance, but eyes as glassy as his and flushed cheeks. A beat of silence went by.

She slapped him. Hard.

"What the _hell_ was that?"

Damn, his cheek stung.

"_That_," he said, mildly irritated but still smirking, "was something I've wanted to do since David walked in on us that morning."

Her eyes blazed. "You sonofabitch. What makes you think you can waltz up to me and- forget it. Get out." She straightened with surprising strength. "Now."

"Megan, I-"

"Dammit, Colby, you just don't get it, do you? You're a goddamned _spy_. You betrayed the shit out of everyone; you played me like a children's game… you should have left well enough alone."

He stared at her bitterly. "You hate me that much."

"No." She shook her head. Half-laughed. "I just don't trust you."

"Uh, need I remind you, Miss High and Mighty, you weren't exactly passive just then," he smirked again. "In fact, you seemed to be…"

Damn the man, he was infuriating! Megan scowled, and was once again shell-shocked at the personality change. Gone was the funny, goofy, slightly unprofessional Colby Granger she had once worked with. He was replaced with an indifferent, sarcastic, aggressive stranger.

"_And Megan… no guy agrees __**not**__to have sex."_

"_Meanwhile, back in the parking lot…?"_

"_You're dying to ask, aren't you?" "No."_

"_Krav-Maga at the Y?"_

She blinked.

"Smile for me," he commanded softly, and without conscious thought, she did. She missed _Colby_. The real Colby.

Anger filled her veins, not for the first time.

"I fucking _fell _for you, Colby!" She yelled, surprising him. "I did! Dammit!"

He was quiet. "And now?"

"I hate you," she choked out miserably, wrapping her arms around herself in a protective barrier. After a moment, she lifted her eyes to meet his. Gazes locked on and wouldn't let go, just wouldn't… let… go…

The second time his lips collided with hers, she didn't resist.

Tears evaporated and passion returned as bodies melded and fought for control. Rapid breathing was the only sound to be heard as he kissed her ardently, urgently, as though he couldn't get enough. And he couldn't. His hands kept skittering over her arms, her face, her neck. When they slid up her back, she crumbled into his arms. He carried her over to the couch, and it was the _tenderness_ in his actions that brought on the next flow of tears.

Carefully, meticulously, he peeled off her jacket, removed the pins that held her hair in place.

Then he hugged her.

"I'm sorry," was whispered into her ear, and she clung to him, her lifeline.

He made love to her that night, long and slow. She fell asleep in the warmth of his welcome embrace.

When she woke up the next morning, he was gone.

**- Finis -**


End file.
